


The Enigma of the Doctor

by AraSigyrn



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-31 01:13:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/338274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AraSigyrn/pseuds/AraSigyrn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who is the upstanding war veteran and very middle class Doctor hiding in London’s under belly?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Enigma of the Doctor

Holmes first makes acquaintance of Doctor Watson through the good graces of Ms Adler, although he does not initially think to thank her for it. It is, after all, her fault that he requires medical assistance at the time. They are in Whitechapel, far from the conventional protections of the police and Holmes is bleeding quite profusely. He really should have allowed for the possibility of multiple accomplices and a moment's thought is enough to confirm that his injuries are beyond what little medical knowledge he possesses. It is rather disappointing and Holmes cannot help but feel exasperated.  
  
He has fallen into contemplation of the few cases that he will leave unfinished when Ms Adler returns with two brutish looking men. "It will be all right." she assures him. "The Doctor is in Whitechapel tonight and he has the table scrubbed for you already."  
  
"The Doctor?" Holmes would protest the idea of entrusting his life to the charlatans of London's criminal district but he has lost sufficient blood that the mere act of standing leaves him dangerously unsteady on his feet. The two ruffians seize him in a rough but practiced manner and carry him off like a sack of potatoes.  
  
By the time they reach the doctor's grubby hovel, Holmes is slipping into delirium and offers no further resistance. The doctor is waiting by the door and he is such an unexpected sight that Holmes rouses himself to stare. The man's bearing, his neatly laundered if rather shabby clothes... this is no backroom quack. The man has clearly had military experience.  
  
Holmes is set on a table and feels the first true flutter of fear when one of his bearers says something to the doctor and the man startles backward, instinctively placing himself beyond reach. There are no bottles of spirit or medic to suggest that the doctor is an addict but Holmes fears that the nervous disposition suggests a broken spirit. He is surprised to see the ruffian (Bradley Hanson, a frequent brawler and noted burglar, as Holmes will learn during later investigation) appears genuinely apologetic and hurries to set out the doctor's tools in a manner both helpful and a trifle possessive. Holmes is put in mind of his own landlady dealing with the aftermath of one of his experiments.  
  
The other ruffian is engaged in petting and praising a stout and phelgmatic bulldog who appears accustomed to such rough affection. Holmes fixes his attention once more on the doctor as the man sets to work. He notes the steady hand (and the disparity of colour between the sun-darkened hand and the fair wrist). He sees the limp as the doctor turns for iodine and the faint stiffness of the left arm (and notes the probable location and cause of the wounds that would leave such damage).  
  
By the time the doctor steps back, Holmes is wholly ignorant of the pain and fascinated despite himself with the enigma of his doctor's demeanour. He remains lucid throughout the stitching and has achieved a fair degree of certainty on the likely campaign that the doctor has served in and the dire circumstances in which the doctor finds himself if not the reason that so skilled and sober a doctor plies his trade in the lowest slums of the capital instead of in a reputable practice. He is not afforded the opportunity to learn more from this first encounter as his treacherous body betrays him and he passes out.  
  
When he wakes, safely back at his lodgings, he does not at first devote much thought to the doctor; there are more pressing matters and no fewer than five of his cases have reached their climax and require immediate attention. For all that, the memory of the dichotomy of the good doctor continues to fret at the edges of Holmes' mind whenever he has a spare moment.  
  
It is three weeks later, a lull in cases having been reached, that he bends his mind once more upon the doctor. Casual inquiries reveal little and Holmes is obliged to dig deeply into his own resources of cunning to discover any meaningful information. Before he can discover much, Irene Adler reappears  
The surprise is nearly absolute - she allows generous intervals between their encounters and Holmes had not expected to see her for months yet. She is brisk, almost impersonal. "You need to stop, Sherlock. Leave the man be."  
  
"You were the last person I expected to have soft feelings for the good Doctor Watson." Holmes says, there being no point in pretending ignorance. "His current practice aside, he does not strike me as one of your peers; a military man, a decorated veteran with a history of honourable and loyal service."  
  
"I mean it, Sherlock." Ms Adler sips her tea and looks to the windows. "He is highly thought of by his neighbours."  
  
"You cannot mean that he is party to the criminal gangs of the area." Holmes muses aloud. "The man's character and behaviour is uttely opposed to it."  
  
"No. He's no criminal but he is a good doctor and they think highly of him. The last man to inquire about him was Gregson."  
  
"Inspector Gregson, formerly of Scotland Yard?" Holmes narrows his eyes. "I had wondered what he was investigating but the fire destroyed his notes. Lestrade was devasted by his murder and my own inquires suggested nothing."  
  
"They think highly of Doctor Watson." Ms Adler says again, setting her tea aside and preparing to leave. "He is something of a hero to them, you know. The only real doctor in the area and they do their utmost to ensure his desires are met."  
  
"His desires including?" Holmes makes the inquiry without much hope. He is surprised when Ms Adler turns to look at him with sober eyes.  
  
"Solitude, Sherlock. I don't know what Doctor Watson is running from, but I know that he has a horror of being discovered." She turns away, gathering hat and umbrella. "Leave him be, Sherlock. Some secrets are best left buried."  
  
Holmes holds the door for her and watches until her hansom cab has disappeared into the murk. He returns to his room and regards the modest pile of notes on the table. There is a note from Lestrade, three from prospective clients and one letter from Mycroft beside them. Holmes has ample excuse to turn away from this investigation but as he regards the papers, his mind replays the clear blue eyes and the soft sure voice of the doctor. Damned if he will let such games distract him!  
  
Decision made, he turns to his wardrobe. The game's afoot!.


End file.
